


Where the Heart Is

by Farasha



Series: Open My Heart [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Come Inflation (mention), Comeplay, Domesticity, Established Relationship, M/M, Mirror Sex, Omega/Omega sex, Scent Marking, Sexual Fantasy, Sloppy Seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: Yuri's first heat is over, but he feels like he hasn't regained any control. Victor and Yuuri still make him lose his mind anytime they're near, Lilia and Yakov aren't happy with his choices, and he feels like an outsider looking in. Maybe this was all a big mistake - one he can't take back.





	Where the Heart Is

It took three days for the last heat-fever to break. When Yuri woke on the fourth morning, in the early hours before dawn, he felt like death. The inside of his mouth tasted sour. His lips were chapped and dry. His muscles were stiff, especially in his thighs. It was worst between his legs; the remnants of come and slick had dried on his skin, the hair on his thighs sticking together.

"Ugh," he said. Against his back, Victor curled tighter and made a noise of discontent. "Get off, I need a shower."

"Sleep," Victor grunted, which Yuri figured meant his heat had ended too.

"Shower," Yuri said insistently, squirming out of the octopus of limbs Victor turned into when he slept. Victor did his best to keep Yuri in bed, but for once Yuri appreciated being small. He slipped Victor's grasp and stood up on shaky legs.

Something was off, like an itch all over his skin. Yuuri wasn't in the apartment. Now that the suppressants and blockers had thoroughly failed, Yuri could smell Victor from across the room, but not Yuuri. Maybe it was because he reeked of the aftereffects of heat just like Yuri did, but instinct told Yuri their alpha wasn't near. Makkachin was nowhere to be found when he poked his head into the living room. That probably meant Yuuri had already gone on his morning run.

It left the shower free for Yuri. He took it gratefully, stepping into it when the water was barely warm. It was worth the sudden shock jolting him out of the last vestiges of sleep. Just the first cascade of water sluiced some of the worst of the crusty feeling from his skin, and Yuri sighed, leaned against the shower wall, and let the spray beat down on him.

He didn't even think about it before grabbing at the bottles that lined the shower. He was halfway through scrubbing the insides of his thighs when he realized the smell rising up all around him was the same one he smelled on Victor, mingled with his natural scent. He'd grabbed Victor's body wash.

He didn't think Victor would mind, but there hadn't been much time to talk everything over while they were all fucking each other silly. Traditionally, an alpha moved into the omega's home, entering the den the omega had built for their future. Yuuri and Victor had done that while Victor's mating bite was still scabbing over, but Yuri didn't have a home -- not one of his own, anyway. He didn't know how it usually worked for harems, either. He didn't know anyone who was part of one, and they didn't exactly cover them in school aside from the few weeks they spent on Tsarina Katerina Velikaya, and then it was only a passing mention of her massive harem.

It wasn't like he'd had a problem lingering in their life before he demanded that they make him part of it. He spent almost as much time here as he did at Yakov and Lilia's. Still. There were a lot of things to regret about a secondary mate, taken on in the throes of a presenting heat. Yuri should probably just spend the night in his own bed tonight. Yuuri had already gone out and left his omegas to crawl out of their heat nest on their own, which Yuri figured meant he needed space, or he would have woken them up. He felt anxious and hated it, a large part of him wishing he'd just gone home to suffer out his heat alone. Then he caught a look at the marks on either side of his neck in the mirror and paused, rubbing a thumb over Yuuri's. He belonged to them, and Victor belonged to him - the scars made it so, as they said.

They kept a set of his practice clothes in the spare bedroom. Having to leave the master bath to go into the other room for clothes made him feel even more like an outsider, an afterthought.

He shouldn't have asked for the bite. He should have waited until they were all clear-headed and he could find out whether they wanted him for real.

The thoughts didn't stop him from going back to the master bath once he was dressed in a soft black turtleneck and comfortable, worn track pants. He felt like he was being pulled back to the place that smelled like all of them like together like he was drawn on a leash, the set of his shoulders relaxing as soon as he was surrounded by their scent again.

In the mirror, he tried to clear any hint of his troubled mood off his face. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, slipped a couple fingers under its high collar, but it stayed stubbornly snug around his throat. He tried to contain his disappointment.

"You can borrow one of mine," Victor said, making him jump. A strong arm wrapped around Yuri's waist. He pushed his face into Yuri's throat, rubbing his cheeks along Yuri's collarbone and shoulder.

Even after three days nesting together, Victor covered in Yuri's scent and Yuri in his, Yuri still wasn't used to the way the stiffness in his spine unwound when Victor touched him, wrapped him up in his arms like Yuri was tiny. He'd never admit it aloud, but he liked how much bigger than him Victor was -- bigger than Yuuri, even, and Yuuri was the alpha. He looked into Victor's eyes in the mirror, catching a hot, mischievous glint in them.

"I don't even want to think about having sex for a _week_ , are you kidding me?" Yuri shrugged out of Victor's grip. "You just came out of a heat!"

Victor pouted. "I'm always horny coming down from it," he whined, grabbing for Yuri again. "You smell like Yuuri."

"I smell more like you now that you've rubbed all over me," Yuri grumbled. 

He looked back up at the collar of his turtleneck in the mirror, and the pinch between his eyebrows returned. He hadn't expected to feel so strongly about covering up his marks. The scabs were almost healed over, the skin around them puckering into angry pink scars. He liked the way they looked, a purr of satisfaction deep in his chest whenever he caught sight of them, or of the brand new mark on Victor's throat, opposite his shiny white scar.

It would be his first day back at the rink after three days having his brains fucked out. He had a whole new admiration for Yuuri; alpha ruts were shorter and more intense than omega heats, and by the third day, Yuuri's rut-increased strength and stamina had flagged. He'd gotten both of them through the last frantic spike of fever regardless.

"Borrow one of mine," Victor said again. "I have some old practice clothes left from when I was your age."

"You were taller than me at your age." Yuri wasn't sure how he felt about going back to the rink wearing Victor's mark _and_ his clothes.

"You only need a shirt," Victor said. "You want to show off the marks. It's natural."

"It's weird."

Victor's mouth curved in the mirror, and he swooped in to leave a wet kiss on Yuri's cheek. Yuri squawked and wiped it off, pushing Victor away when he tried to leave another one.

"It's not weird," Victor laughed. "You're being so grumpy, Yura. We want to show you off as much as you do with us, you know."

Yuri's skin prickled, want bubbling up in his gut despite how conscious he was of how much he needed to practice. He hadn't even done any conditioning while he was in his heat. Not even stretching, unless he counted some of the positions they'd folded him into. So Victor's low, seductive voice was unfair. He was going to be distracted enough at the rink with everything else going on.

The front door opened and closed. Makkachin came strutting into the bedroom, sniffing around the bed. Not finding them there, she wandered into the bathroom, jumping up on Victor first, then Yuri, shamelessly requesting pets. Yuri gave them, scratching the fluffy, curly fur behind her ears. Victor was less indulgent, giving Makkachin a couple quick pats before shooing her out of the crowded bathroom.

Yuuri came up behind Yuri like Victor had, scenting the other side of Yuri's throat. His hands crept around Yuri's waist and up his chest. It felt different when it was Yuuri's fingers hooked in the collar of the turtleneck, the cloth shifting over the nape of Yuri's neck when he pulled. The possessive roaming of Yuuri's hands over him was hard to resist.

"We have to get to practice," Yuri said, even though his cheeks were going hot and his eyes wanted to close.

"Wear something lower cut," Yuuri said, his voice soft in Yuri's ear. "Unless you doesn't want people to know who you belong to?"

Yuri's knees went weak as Yuuri pressed his teeth gently against his mark. Even through the cloth of Yuri's shirt, it felt hot and sensitive.

"I'll get one," Victor chirped, leaving Yuri in Yuuri's hands. Yuuri's eyes in the mirror were heavy-lidded and dark, his teeth pressing a little harder into Yuri's neck.

"Katsudon, come on- _ah_ , fuck." Yuri's lungs started to feel like he was inhaling syrup. Yuuri's hands left goosebumps in their wake, warm through Yuri's shirt. The touch rubbed over his skin, cloth so much different than Yuuri's hands.

"Come on what?" The wide-eyed look Yuuri gave him from behind his glasses was entirely unconvincing, especially when Yuuri made a show of inhaling Yuri's scent from the juncture of his neck. Especially when he followed it up with, "I can smell you getting wet for me."

"Fuck," Yuri said, unable to think of any other words. Had Victor taught Katsudon how to talk dirty, or did this just come naturally to him?

"You'll have to take this off to change," Yuuri said, slipping his hands underneath Yuri's shirt. It bunched under his hands, rolling up to expose Yuri's stomach.

Yuri's pulse started to beat in his throat as more of his skin was exposed. Victor was mouthy, he'd discovered, and Yuuri wasn't much better. His abs were dotted with reddened marks, evidence of the two of them left behind on his skin. Yuuri dragged his fingernails over the muscles, pinching at some of the marks until Yuri felt like he was falling into heat-fever all over again.

Victor stepped back into the bathroom, black cloth hanging forgotten from one hand. He stopped and leaned against the wall, his gaze landing heavily on Yuri's in the mirror. He let his eyes travel over the pale skin Yuuri had exposed and licked his lips slowly.

"I like the way that looks," Victor said. "We should keep you marked up all the time."

"We're going to be late," Yuri hissed, but it was a lost cause and he knew it. He was so hard, and he could feel himself getting wet just like Yuuri said, his own scent rising in his nose alongside Yuuri's dizzying musk.

"I think you'd like it if you came in late, with your marks showing, smelling like both of us." Yuuri kissed his ear and pulled the hem of Yuri's shirt all the way up, exposing his chest and his nipples. He pressed it against Yuri's mouth. "Hold that."

Yuri let Yuuri stuff the hem of his shirt between his teeth, cutting off any further protests. In the mirror, Yuri looked helpless in Yuuri's grasp. His hands stroked over Yuri's body. He caught both of Yuri's nipples between his fingers and thumbs and pulled.

"Mmf!" Yuri moaned around the shirt in his mouth, his hips jerking, his eyes sliding closed. Yuuri twisted harder, making his sore nipples twinge. They'd discovered how sensitive his nipples were during his heat, and he should have known they would take advantage.

"I think you want to be knotted again," Victor said. Yuri dragged his eyes back open, flicking them to Victor in the mirror and sucking in a long breath through his nose. Victor's pants were pulled down around his hips and he was stroking himself, watching his alpha play with another omega.

It was still dizzying for Yuri, that Victor would share like that. Everyone talked about how possessive alphas were, but truth be told, omegas weren't much better. When they found an alpha and chose to take a mark, they got jealous -- except in the cases of harems, which Yuri guessed was in his case now. Victor didn't drape himself on Yuuri, didn't lean down to present himself, didn't throw his head back to bare his throat and his mark. He didn't do any of the things that would have pulled Yuuri's attention to him as surely as a compass pointing north.

Yuri did them instead. He let his head fall back against Yuuri's shoulder and ground his ass against the hard line of Yuuri's cock. He let his weight lean against Yuuri, a surrender of his body that made Yuuri's fingers tighten on his skin. He looked Victor in the eye in the mirror, and Victor bit his lip, the motion of his hand slowing until he was just holding his dick, watching Yuri give himself into their alpha's hands.

"Do you want that?" Yuuri asked, his breath warm on Yuri's ear. "Do you want to be filled up one more time before we go?" He rubbed his thumbs over Yuri's sore nipples and stepped a little closer, crowding Yuri against the sink.

"You'll reek of Yuuri," Victor said, in that unfair tone of voice that made Yuri's dick jump in his pants. "Everyone will know you've just been fucked. Maybe you'll come so hard you'll milk his knot, and he'll fill you until you swell up again."

Yuri moaned, and one of Yuuri's hands traveled down to his flat stomach to squeeze. On the second day of his heat, Victor had made do with their hands while Yuuri knotted Yuri over and over, plugging him between rounds until Yuri's stomach bulged and sloshed with come. It was filthy and Yuri loved it, loved the feeling of himself swollen with his alpha's come inside him. 

"I think you're right," Yuuri said. "Are you wet enough for me, Yura? Can you take it just like this?"

Yuri pulled at the sleeves of his shirt, desperate to have it off, to feel more of Yuuri against him. Yuuri laughed softly into the skin of his jaw and helped, stripping the shirt off over his head and throwing it aside. Even with his mouth free, Yuri couldn't make his tongue form words, nothing but eager little noises coming from him while Yuuri pressed him down over the sink, tugging his pants down around his thighs. Yuri reached out to brace himself against the mirror. He couldn't decide where he wanted to look -- Yuuri's eyes, intense on his face, or Victor's hand, moving again, slow and easy over his cock.

"Spread your legs," Yuuri said, his hand stroking over Yuuri's spine. Yuri shifted his feet as far apart as he could. Yuuri's fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, and another desperate sound spilled from Yuri's throat. Slick started to drip down the insides of his thighs as Yuuri pulled his head up.

He barely recognized his own face in the mirror, flushed pink, his lips wet with spit, his breath fogging up the glass. He caught Yuuri's eyes just as Yuuri reached down between his legs, fingertips trailing over the sensitive skin on the insides of Yuri's thighs. He teased his fingertips over Yuri's wet hole and Yuri groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. He was sore and sensitive, but he still wanted it, the hollow feeling inside making him ache.

Another tug on his hair made him focus on the mirror again, catching a smirk on Yuuri's lips. "Keep your eyes on me," he said.

Yuri had discovered his alpha was just a little bit cruel. He loved to tease, to demand near-impossible levels of control from his omegas, to drive them to tearful pleading while he methodically took them apart. Yuri struggled to keep his eyes open, his fingers curling against the glass as Yuuri teased between the cheeks of his ass. Yuri felt like he would burst out of his skin. His spine curved and he rose up on his toes, pushing back into the touch.

"For fuck's sake, just give it to me already!" Yuri snapped, trying his best to glare at Yuuri in the mirror.

Yuuri pushed three fingers into him right away, sensation burning along Yuri's nerves. He stretched them apart, opening Yuri up, twisting them around and rubbing the spot inside that set Yuri's skin on fire.

"Ahhh," Yuri moaned, his eyes barely slitted open. Yuuri's lips were parted as he watched Yuri's face, hunger in his eyes. He was rough with his hands, tugging hard enough on Yuri's hair to sting and ruthlessly fucking Yuri with his fingers. Yuri rose up on his tiptoes, hipbones banging into the edge of the sink. Yuuri didn't look away the entire time, forcing Yuri to hold eye contact as his face scrunched and twisted with pleasure, as he sucked his lip into his mouth and bit, as the tips of his fingers turned white on the glass.

He looked pathetic, shoving back against Yuuri's hand. Maybe Yuuri would fist him again, instead of knotting him. It was almost as good but not quite enough, a tease that had made Victor crazy while they lavished attention on Yuri. The thought made his eyes flick to Victor in the mirror. Both of Yuuri's hands twisted, sending sharp pain through his scalp and an onslaught of pleasure through his body at the same time.

"Don't. Look. Away."

Yuuri's lips were wet on Yuri's neck, and then he was sucking on the mark he'd left on Yuri's throat.

Yuri's arms shook, his voice rising on a whining noise in his throat. His tongue was pressed against the back of his gritted teeth. Sometimes he didn't know whether Yuuri told him to do things because some primal alpha part of him got off on it, or because he didn't think Yuri could actually do it. Yuri glared at his own face in the mirror, fuzzy when it was so close. Yuuri's dark hair brushed ticklishly against his neck as he bent over Yuri and sucked on his mark. It was like completing an electric circuit. Yuri lit up from the inside out, thought abandoned for need.

"Fuck me." 

Yuri gasped it between little jerks of his muscles. Yuuri had slowed down, just dipping his fingertips shallowly into Yuri's body, making the hollow feeling worse as he teased right _there_ but didn't push deep inside.

"But Yura, we'll be _late_ ," Victor said. He sounded so smug about having gotten what he wanted that Yuri nearly looked away to glare at him instead, but caught himself at the last moment.

"Victor is shameless, but you're not quite like him," Yuuri murmured. Victor could hear them, of course, but the way his dark eyes bored into Yuri's, the way he had Yuri squirming on just the tips of his fingers, made it feel like everything but the two of them was falling away.

"No," Yuuri continued. "You're a brat. A demanding one."

"Regretting what you signed up for already?" Yuri asked. He was completely unprepared for the way saying it made him swallow hard around a sudden lump in his throat.

Yuuri growled at him, burying his face in Yuri's neck again, sucking on his skin until a row of red marks trailed from the bite to the hinge of his jaw. Yuri thought about people looking at those and shuddered, pushing as far back against Yuuri as he could.

He knew what Yuuri wanted. He'd only gotten away with calling him _Katsudon_ or _Katsuki_ or even _alpha_ for so long. Yuuri had told Victor to hold him down while he covered every inch of Yuri's thighs with his mouth, until Yuri couldn't take it anymore, pleading with Yuuri's given name on his lips.

He didn't know why it was so hard for him. He didn't even say it quite like his own name. While he'd been in Japan he'd picked up the softer r, not hard and growly like Yuri's but flirted against the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue. It still made him squirm to say aloud -- especially like this, forced to look Yuuri in the eye, desperate for what Yuuri wasn't giving him.

"Please," he tried. Yuuri only clicked his tongue.

"Ask _nicely_ , Yura."

Hearing his name like that in Yuuri's mouth was like kryptonite, like a shot to the gut. He clenched around nothing, feeling empty and wanting and like Yuuri was dangling him over the edge of an active volcano. It was bad enough to break down like this during his heat. Would they always have the power to do this to him? They made him into something needy and raw, a live wire. Whether it was Yuuri's hands on him and Victor's eyes, or the other way around, or both of them together, it was everything he'd never let himself dream of wanting, and he had it. 

_Yeah_ , he thought. _It's always going to feel like a high._

"Yuuri," he ground out, teeth gritted.

"There it is," Yuuri said, his eyes sharpening behind his glasses. "Don't stop."

"Yuuri," he gasped, as his alpha's hands left him - and again, "Yuuri," when they returned to the cheeks of his ass, holding them apart so the head of Yuuri's cock could nudge between. The next time he tried to say it broke into a moan. Yuri's face turned red all over again, listening to the wet sound of Yuuri fucking into him while his voice hitched up into another pathetic whine.

"I said not to stop," Yuuri said. He smacked Yuri's ass, still holding his gaze in the mirror.

It wasn't hard enough that it should have made him flinch, but he did anyway, the surprise of it making his thighs bunch and his back tighten, his body coiling like a spring. Yuuri fucked into him harder and he lost the tension just as fast, his body turned to liquid as Yuuri's cock drove into him, exactly what he'd been so desperate for.

Yuuri was the one to break eye contact this time, his palms skidding on the sink on either side of Yuri's elbows. Bottles of soap and shampoo and aftershave clattered into the sink basin as Yuuri fucked him, the jolts of pleasure more than overtaking the mild discomfort of the sink digging into his hips. Yuuri found the mark on the side of Yuri's neck with his teeth again, barely scraping the edges of them over it this time. It was enough to make Yuri writhe, his spine bowing as he instinctively tried to present. It made Yuuri slam deeper into him with every thrust.

"Yura, you look amazing with him inside of you," Victor said, and Yuri nearly choked on his next breath. He'd almost forgotten Victor was there, so consumed with his alpha's teeth on his mark and cock inside him, his trembling arms barely holding himself up against the mirror. "Look at you. You were made to take it, you're so beautiful."

Yuri could look at him, now that Yuuri was distracted fucking him. His eyes would barely focus, Yuuri's thrusts shoving him against the sink. Victor had his head rested back against the wall, his gaze focused on the two of them with a sliver of blue showing through his lowered lashes. His cock was dripping precome, his thumb coming up to roll over the slit as Yuri watched, coming away sticky and glistening. Yuri's mouth watered, remembering how good Victor had tasted when Yuri had sucked him off. 

Yuuri growled against his throat, his hard, punishing thrusts turning into deep grinds. Yuri's fingernails scraped against the mirror, anticipation making his forgotten cock drip as he felt Yuuri's knot starting to swell. He was addicted to them, to Yuuri knotting him and to Victor's scent all over him, to the ache of Victor's mating bite to the taste of Yuuri's cock in his mouth. It was a good thing the ISU didn't think mating bonds were performance-enhancing, because he'd fail any kind of test they gave him.

"Yuuri," he moaned, realizing he'd been saying it like a benediction this entire time, gasping and nearly sobbing it while Yuuri ground his cock in deep and let his knot seat inside his omega, claiming Yuri as his, as surely as the mark on his neck.

"Gorgeous, Yura," Victor gasped. He was squeezing the base of his cock like he was trying to keep from coming. Yuri wondered how wet he was. He could smell Victor from across the bathroom, nearly overpowering the scent of Yuri getting fucked. Yuri squeezed down on Yuuri's knot, sweaty palms slipping on the glass, the backs of his knees feeling like they'd fall asleep.

Yuuri pulled him up, holding him steady as it made his cock push just a little bit deeper inside. Yuuri held him with one hand firm over his stomach and one pressed up against his collarbones, the webbing between his thumb and first finger snug against Yuri's throat. He felt pinned and owned and filled, marked up from the inside out. 

His body spasmed again, clenching down hard, reflex against the knot filling him up, and his orgasm ripped from him with a surprised, nearly soundless gasp. He came across the sink, spurting almost to the mirror with the force of it, his eyes finally squeezing shut.

Yuuri's hips jerked against his and he moaned, coming inside Yuri nearly in the same moment. It wasn't as much as he'd come during rut, and Yuri felt a little twinge of disappointment that he wouldn't be so full of come he could feel his belly straining with it.

"Next time your heat cycle comes, it'll only be you," Yuuri said, seeming to catch on to Yuri's train of thought. "Victor won't get dragged into the next one like he did this one. We'll take turns with you. I'll knot you and pump you full of come, then Victor can fuck even more into you. We'll fill you up so full you can barely move. You'll look pregnant with us, Yura."

Later, Yuri might be ashamed of the noise he made at that, so high it could only be called a squeak. His cock gave another weak spurt, one hand slipping from the mirror with a thump. He pressed it against his stomach beside Yuuri's hand, grinding back against the knot inside him. Fuck, it felt so good. A tiny, animal part of him wanted all the dirty things Yuuri was whispering in his ear, even if they weren't possible. Male omegas didn't bear.

He made his heavy tongue form words, because like hell was he going to let that stay just a fantasy.

"Better not come yet, old man," he said, his voice thready and hitching on gasps. "Want you to fuck me too."

"Yura," Victor moaned, and when Yuri managed to open his eyes to look, his chest was heaving, the head of his cock a desperate, painful-looking red as he kept himself from coming.

"Want it," Yuri insisted, squeezing Yuuri's knot inside him. "Yuuri, let him fuck me."

"If you want my knot to go down, you'll have to come again," Yuuri said. His arms tightened around Yuri, his hips jerking up every time Yuri's muscles clenched down.

Yuri's head swam with sensation. Yuuri's knot pressed snug against the most sensitive places inside him, and after he'd come it was almost too much. Without Yuuri's arms around him, he wouldn't have been upright. He fucking loved it. He slid his hand down further, grasping his sensitive cock. It felt so good it almost hurt as he started to stroke himself hard.

"You stopped looking," Yuuri said, and pinched his nipple. Yuri's gaze jerked up to the mirror again.

He could see better now that he wasn't pressed up against it. He looked a mess, his hair disheveled and his lips swollen from biting, the side of his throat with Yuuri's claiming mark also reddening with hickies. Yuuri's knot sat just perfectly inside him, thick and hot and pulsing when Yuri squirmed on it.

He moved his hand faster, watching in embarrassed fascination as the head of his cock peeked out of the foreskin, still wet at the tip from his orgasm.

Victor drifted closer, finally reaching out to touch. He brushed Yuri's hair away from his face, skimmed the pad of his thumb gently over Yuri's jaw. Yuri caught it in his mouth when Victor brushed it over his lip, sucking until his cheeks hollowed. Victor's thumb hooked behind his teeth and pulled his mouth open, reeling him in for a messy, wet kiss. Yuri watched the mirror out of the corner of his eye, catching a flash of their tongues slipping together before Victor's mouth devoured his.

It felt like they were breathing the same air, like every touch of Yuuri's hands on Yuri traveled through his body and into Victor, a closed circuit. Victor was touching him, his fingers dipping between Yuri's ribs, down to his hips, pressing him back against Yuuri and making Yuuri's cock feel like it was even deeper. He pushed Yuri's hand away and took over working his cock, his grip sure and firm. Yuri was already so close, drowning in the scent of both of them, that it wrung a second orgasm out of him faster than he could draw breath to moan.

He could feel Yuuri's quads tremoring against the backs of his thighs. He grunted in Yuri's ear and ground in one last time before his knot started to shrink, leaving Yuri feeling bereft despite two orgasms and two pairs of hands on his skin.

"Hurry up," he mumbled against Victor's lips, then sucked on his tongue just to be a brat, because he knew it made Victor weak.

Yuuri smacked him on the ass again, making him jump and clench as Yuuri's cock slid out. Yuri bent back down over the sink, going up on his toes again, trying to put enough arch in his spine to keep his hips tilted just right. He wanted Yuuri's come in him when Victor fucked him.

"Come here," Yuuri said, tugging Victor away. In the mirror, Yuri watched a dazed, hungry-eyed Victor take hold of his hips while Yuuri stroked his cock, guiding it right into Yuri's sloppy, well-fucked ass.

"You're so wet you're dripping," Victor groaned, sinking all the way into him. "I'm not going to last long like this, oh, Yura."

Victor pulled out, an obscene noise filling the air of the bathroom. When he pushed back in, come and slick gushed down Yuri's thighs. Yuri took a breath to tell Victor to fuck him faster and choked on his words. Every thrust was a perfect, even glide of Victor's cock inside him. Yuuri's knot had made him so sensitive, and after two orgasms he could barely hang on. He just wanted so badly to be full of them both. To be bulging with it, ruined for anything but fucking.

In a minute his sense would catch up with him and he would remember why he shouldn't have encouraged this, or why he shouldn't ask them to plug him back up afterward. Right now all that mattered was the slide of Victor's cock in him, the feeling of Victor's fingers digging into his hips, and the filthy sounds of Yuri getting fucked.

"Yura," Victor gasped, leaning down over Yuri's back. He kissed the back of Yuri's neck and came with a long, shaky sigh, adding to the mess inside Yuri and sending warm satisfaction curling through him at last.

That lasted long enough for Yuri to start to feel sticky. The compelling want waned, and he swore colorfully.

"Now I have to fucking shower again!"

Victor chuckled into his skin. "You asked for it." He pulled out, making both of them hiss, and then stuffed Yuri full of his fingers instead, feeling Yuri's insides. "I like this."

"Me too," Yuuri said, leaning in to kiss Yuri on the cheek. "Yura is right, though. We need to get to the rink or Yakov will kill all of us. He'll probably start with me."

They were extremely late. It was almost worth it for the rare look of total shock on Yakov's face when they walked in together, Yuri bracketed between Yuuri and Victor, their bite marks showing plainly above the low-cut collar of one of Victor's old practice shirts.

The shock quickly transformed into something thunderous, a storm settling on Yakov's brow, foreboding and violent. He stormed away from the side of the rink, ignoring Georgi's surprised call for him and the sound of blades stopping too fast on the ice. A buzz like a hive of bees seemed to follow in Yakov's wake, whispers and gossip flying fast around the rink. Yuri was glad he'd showered again. His own rich, newly-presented omega scent was enough to turn heads. He didn't need to reek of sex on top of it.

Still, like fuck was he going to let anyone treat him any differently, especially not the old man. "What?" he snapped.

"You," Yakov said, jabbing a finger at him. "No ice time today. You're in the studio."

"That's bullshit! I couldn't help missing practice-"

"You could help being late," Yakov said, ruthlessly stepping all over any embarrassment Yuri might have had when he eyed the line of hickeys on Yuri's throat. "You're Lilia's problem today. You too, Katsuki. Get out of my sight."

Yuuri, usually cowed or at least a little shaken by Yakov's snarling, had a cool look on his face Yuri only remembered seeing once before, as they walked to the rink in Barcelona. The show of confidence was pretty convincing. Yuri thought he and Victor might be the only ones to notice how wide Yuuri's eyes were behind his glasses.

"Coach Feltsman, are you saying there's currently no room on the ice?" He asked, deceptively placid. His fingers were gripping the sleeves of his jacket like a lifeline.

"Yuuri," Victor said, his low voice barely carrying over Yuri's head. Yuri's shoulders were tightening with tension, an inexplicable feeling like the charge before a lightning strike settling between Yuuri and Yakov.

"I don't need you around my omegas," Yakov said, short and blunt. "I may not be your coach, but this is my rink."

Yakov's ability to resist the force radiating from Yuuri was unsurprising - he was an omega, sure, but once omegas stopped having heats, they might as well be betas. Yuri, though. Yuri could tell his alpha was agitated and it was making his skin feel too tight.

"I'm my own fucking omega," Yuri said, feeling like he should be baring his teeth. He hadn't expected Yakov to act like _this_.

"I'd like to speak with Vitya alone," Yakov continued, like Yuri hadn't even said anything.

That made the tension in his spine worse, and from the low, guttural noise of protest Yuuri made, just shy of a growl, he felt the same way.

"I'll be right there," Victor said. "Your office?"

Yakov grunted his assent and stormed back to the ice, barking at Georgi to take a break.

"I don't think I've ever seen him that mad," Yuuri said, sounding troubled. 

"Hah, you should have seen him when Victor ran off to Japan. He was like this for weeks." Yuri rolled his eyes, but he felt unsettled. Yakov had completely ignored him, aside from tossing him at Lila. Was he really that mad?

"I'll talk to him," Victor said. "The two of you should probably go to the studio. You do need to practice."

"Shut up, I'm not going anywhere while he's grilling you. I'm not going to let him decide what's right for me without talking to me. Not about this." Yuri squared his shoulders and glared at Victor, daring him to argue.

Victor didn't have to. He just needed to share a look with Yuuri, and then the heavy weight of his alpha's hand was on Yuri's nape, steering him away from the rink. 

"Victor can take care of himself, Yura," he said, ignoring the way Yuri twisted and squirmed in his grip. It made his skin buzz, and he couldn't concentrate on coordinating his limbs long enough to really pull away.

"That's fucking cheating," he snarled. "Let me go, Katsuki."

Yuuri dropped his hand immediately, but Yuri would look stupid storming back over to Yakov's office now that Victor had already slipped inside. He glared up at Yuuri.

"I won't do it again," Yuuri said, preempting Yuri's building rant just as he took the breath to start. "Victor needs to talk to Yakov for his own sake, too. He's only angry because he cares."

"It's not like I didn't know what I was doing," Yuri said, sullen. "It's not like I didn't ask."

Yuuri didn't answer him. Silence laid between them when they arrived at Lilia's small studio, the one she maintained at the rink instead of the larger school she ran elsewhere in the city. Lilia was waiting for them, and the studio was empty - both things that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"What, did you and the geezer decide to tag-team us?" Yuri went to the barre without waiting for her reply, starting to stretch like nothing was different than any other day.

"Yes," Lilia said, unconcerned by his poisonous glare. "Katsuki Yuuri, a word?"

"Whatever you have to say to him, you can say it in front of me. I'm getting real fucking tired of everyone thinking I can't make my own decisions."

"The decisions you make are reckless, which I expect from someone your age," Lilia said, her tone arch.

"Madam Baranovskaya," Yuuri said, his voice a study in calm politeness. You could never tell from listening that he'd been terrified of stepping into an older, experienced alpha's territory when he first arrived in St. Petersburg. "Yura isn't wrong. Is it about him? Us?"

Lilia stared him down, but Yuuri refused to budge. One of her eyebrows twitched upward. Yuri, used to her microexpressions by now, recognized grudging respect.

"Are harems still traditional in Japan?" she asked, straight to the point as usual.

"No," Yuuri said. "It would be unusual there, too."

"Perhaps you can tell me, then, why you come here to Russia and bind our two most talented skaters to yourself."

Yuuri blinked slowly behind his glasses. He scrubbed the heels of his hands on his thighs. Yuri knew his nervous gestures when he saw them.

"Nobody _takes_ me if I don't want it," Yuri snapped. "I'm not a fucking _thing_."

"Of course not," Lilia said, insult writ large on her features. "You are, however, a child-"

"I'm a gold medalist and I'm about to be an Olympian, try again." Yuri let his leg fall from the barre, stomping over to put himself between them. "You aren't my mother and you didn't raise me. You don't get a say in who I decide to mate with."

Lilia's lips thinned. "You have an entire career ahead of you. Tying yourself down as someone's secondary is foolishness."

"I would never interfere with his career," Yuuri said. "And nobody is secondary here. Yura made the decision. I told him it was for good and that's what he wanted. Do you think I'm going to abandon him?"

Yuri swallowed. Even the suggestion was almost too much, the bond too new. His fingers crept up to press against Yuuri's claiming bite, still glaring defiantly at Lilia and her self-righteous alpha posturing.

"I'll be moving my stuff out of your place pretty soon, don't worry. I'll be out of your hair," he said, and turned back to the barre. "Are we here to work or what?"

In the mirror, he saw a flash of something conflicted and strange on Lilia's face. For the first time since he'd known her, she appeared to be lost for words. Yuuri sighed, glancing at Yuri, their eye contact in the mirror making a jumble of images flash through his mind from that morning. He turned red and dropped his eyes to his knee, watching the extension.

"You've put yourself in an enviable position, Katsuki Yuuri." Lilia didn't sound as hostile as she had before, but the resentment bubbling in Yuri's chest hadn't gone away.

"If you think I planned for any of this to happen, that's not the case," Yuuri said. "I don't regret anything, but I didn't come here to steal Russia's talent. I don't even know what they see in me, sometimes."

Yuri snorted rudely, but didn't look up. Katsudon and his ridiculous inferiority complex.

Lilia made a humming sound, like she was considering. "You love him? Our Yurochka?"

"Ugh, _stop_ ," Yuri groaned, a flush of nervousness going through him. They hadn't said that yet. None of them.

"Of course I do," Yuuri said, immediate and fierce. "Of course."

Yuri's chest squeezed until he thought he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Hm," Lilia said. It was the closest thing to an apology Yuuri was likely to get from Lilia, who never admitted she'd done anything wrong.

"Madam Baranovskaya," Yuuri said, his voice warmer this time. "I would like to ask your permission to take Yura under my roof."

Yuri was about to turn around and start yelling again, about how that was nobody's decision but his, and it wasn't the fucking fifties anymore, but when his eyes hit the mirror and caught Lilia's face, he stopped himself short.

Lilia, on most days, was like a statue of marble. Nothing affected her. After long hours in the studio, she would leave without a single hair askew, as if even her own body wouldn't dare to defy her. To see her tip her chin up and brush the tip of her finger against the corner of her eye, brushing away a tiny spot of wetness before it could cling to her flawless mascara, was like witnessing the sun rising in the West. Yuri stared, stuck utterly speechless, as she nodded to Yuuri.

"Take care of him. If you don't, I will come for him. Do not mistake my age for frailty."

"I wouldn't expect anything different," Yuuri said, bowing to her the way Yuri had seen him do to Celestino at the Barcelona banquet, thanking the man for all he'd done in Yuuri's career.

"Good. Now to important things." Lilia's face went stern again. "You will not make him late to practice. You will keep your hands and your teeth to yourself when he is to compete." Lilia eyed the line of hickeys on Yuri's throat with distaste. "You will see that he and Vitya do not wear themselves out before competition, and you will likewise contain yourself."

"Yes, Madam," Yuuri said, though his face was rapidly turning red.

"Yura is a skater first, and then an omega. When he retires you may all do as you like. In the meantime, while he is in this studio, you are his competition, not his alpha."

"Yes, Madam," Yuuri said again.

Lilia's eyebrow arched. "Hm. Good. Now get to the barre, we have work to do."

Even when it seemed settled, an itch persisted under Yuri's skin. He couldn't stop thinking about Victor in Yakov's office. Usually when Yakov was mad, he yelled for a little while and told them to get out of his sight. By the time Yuri was finished with barre exercises and ready to start on floor, Victor still hadn't come back. He found himself pausing in the middle of his arabesque, staring at the studio door like he could summon Victor just by thinking it hard enough. He noticed that Yuuri had stopped to stare as well and felt less weird about it. Yuuri and Victor had been mated for a while, and if Yuuri still felt like this, it must be normal.

An hour later, Victor snuck into the studio, his eyes a little red, and went straight for Yuuri. Yuri watched them out of the corner of his eye as Victor pressed himself against Yuuri's side, scenting him and being scented in return, mumbling something inaudible against Yuuri's neck. Yuuri rubbed firm circles on his back and then nudged him away, tipping his head at Yuri.

Yuri braced himself for it, and sure enough, seconds later he was wrapped up in Victor's strong arms, the smell of him and Yuuri rising around them. Yuri couldn't help but brush his cheek against Victor's jaw, adding his own scent to the mix.

"I suppose we'll break," Lilia said dryly.

"I'll just be a minute," Victor mumbled into Yuri's hair. "I think Yakov hates me."

"Don't be foolish," Lilia said, and then walked over to Yuuri, critiquing the point of his foot and the position of his arm.

"Yakov couldn't hate you, no matter what you did. You're his golden boy, remember?" Some lingering resentment lived in Yuri's voice at that, enough to make Victor chuckle, stirring his hair.

"Not anymore. He told me I was a bad influence on you, and that I was selfish, and that I didn't think about your career before I dragged you into this." He paused. "You know I didn't trigger your heat on purpose?"

"What the fuck, did he say you did?" Indignation rose in his gut like a pot about to boil over.

"He insinuated it." Victor sighed again. "He's only angry because he cares. He yelled at me about your season, about how I of all people knew what it was like to have to juggle a heat cycle on top of a competitive schedule. He's worried."

"I can do it," Yuri said, even more pissed off now. "I'm the youngest Grand Prix Champion ever. Who the hell does he think I am, fucking Georgi?"

"Don't hold it against him." Victor lowered his voice. "I think he thinks Yuuri might walk away from both of us. Because, well." He didn't finish the sentence, but they both knew what he meant. The old, faded mating scar on Yakov's neck hadn't smelled like Lilia since before Yuri had come to St. Petersburg. Nobody had ever asked what happened between them. To dissolve a bond was shameful on both sides, and Yuri knew neither one of them would have done it lightly.

"Yeah," Yuri said. "Katsudon asked her to let me move in with you. She said yes."

"I didn't know Yuuri was so old-fashioned," Victor said, a smile in his voice.

"He didn't ask _me_ first," Yuri said, sullen. He knew he shouldn't be, knew he shouldn't let it bother him, but it did. He'd feel a lot better about this if they had talked, but it seemed like it was all happening around him anyway, and all he could do was go with it. He'd felt out of control from the first onset of his heat, and he'd expected that feeling to go away when it was over.

Victor pulled back, his mouth tipped down, his blue eyes wide in the mirror. "You don't want to?" He sounded so baffled, with an edge of hurt in his voice, and it made Yuri ache deep in his chest.

"Of course I want to, stupid," he said, his cheeks heating. "I can't stand it when you're not in the same room with me, how would I sleep in a whole different apartment building?"

"Then..." Victor looked even more confused now, glancing over at Yuuri. Yuri followed his eyes. Yuuri was looking at them, concern written all over his face.

"You want me to?" Yuri asked, hating how small and uncertain his voice sounded.

"We _love_ you, Yura. What else would we want?"

Yuri swallowed, turning his head into Victor's neck and breathing, long and slow. He'd never been able to do this, never let himself touch or be touched, and now that he had it, it was intoxicating.

"You didn't say it before," he said. He felt a little stupid and a little petulant about it, especially since they'd both said it so easily. He didn't know why it bothered him so much.

Victor kissed the side of his neck, squeezing him tighter. "Well, we do. And maybe you do too, I don't know, but either way, we want you with us."

"I do," Yuri protested, feeling even worse now that he realized he hadn't said it either. "It's just..."

"New? Fast?" Victor suggested.

"Both of those," Yuri said, but he rubbed his cheek over Victor's hair anyway. "I do, you know. Both of you."

"And when you're ready to say it we'll be delighted," Victor said, sounding entirely unconcerned. "I suppose we'll see how Potya and Makka get along."

"Your dumb dog had better not terrorize my cat," Yuri said, a knot in his chest loosening. 

Victor laughed, kissed the top of his head, and unwound his arms from Yuri's body. "I'll stay to watch. I don't think Yakov wants me on the ice today either."

Lilia put them through their paces, and practice with her was grueling as always, more so after three days spent without keeping up with his stretches. By the end of the day, the tension that had strung Yuri tight coming into the rink had dissipated. His muscles burned, a familiar, comforting feeling. Yuuri looked like he could go another hour, but Lilia declared decisively that they were done for the evening.

"A moment, Yura," she said, and Yuri didn't feel the same foreboding as he had that morning.

"I'll catch up," he told Victor, standing on his tiptoes to steal a kiss before he turned back to Lilia, red-cheeked, his chin raised, daring her to say something about it.

"With any other of my students, I would not believe an alpha who said mating was the omega's idea. You, though, have always been a singularity." She stared him down, a strange expression on her face. "You are very young to be making this kind of decision."

"I'm very young to be competing at the Olympics, too," Yuri said. "I get it. You care. It's gross, but I get it. I'm fine, though. Katsudon would chew his arm off before he did something to hurt either one of us."

Lilia didn't answer for a very long moment. "I do hope so," she said quietly, uncharacteristic emotion in her voice. "Yakov once believed as much of me."

Yuri's mouth fell open in shock. "What happened with that?" he asked, feeling like he was about to be given a state secret straight from the Kremlin.

"We were young, and thought we knew what we wanted. Dancing meant more to me, and skating meant more to him. We couldn't meet in the middle. Take care that you don't repeat our mistakes."

Yuri understood better now, why they'd done this - he was still mad at Yakov for making Victor feel like shit, but he understood.

"About what I said before." Yuri looked down at the floor, then back up at her through his bangs. "I didn't mean it how it came off. I mean, I'm still not going to let either of you tell me how to live, but... I guess what I mean is, if I were a girl, I'd think about being Yuri Lilievna Plisetskaya. Or whatever." He didn't really think that was true - he thought he'd still be _Nikolaevna_ anyway - but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Lilia cleared her throat twice before she spoke again. Yuri politely stared at the ceiling, more embarrassed than anything.

"I expect you to pack your own things. I will look forward to being able to walk in my spare bedroom again." Lilia's mouth was curved in the barest, subtle hint of a smile. "I do wonder what Nikolai Plisetsky will have to say about all this."

"You are an evil old hag," Yuri said, nothing but admiration in his voice, as pure fear jolted down his spine. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten that he'd have to call his grandfather and explain he was mated.

"Watch your language," Lilia said fondly. "And get out of my studio. You are not my only student."

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri said. Despite the nerves jangling in his stomach from the reminder about his grandfather, he felt like he was walking on air as he headed to the locker rooms.

When he stepped inside, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the shout of "Congratulations!" that erupted. He looked around, red-faced, at what looked like the entire skate club packed into the locker room. Yuuri looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, perched on a bench with Victor lounging in his lap.

"Which one of you idiots is responsible for this," Yuri said flatly, glaring around at all of them.

"Yura! It's so beautiful! A romance for the ages!" Georgi wailed, tearful already, throwing his arms around Yuri's shoulders.

"Ugh, get off," Yuri shoved at Georgi, the contact feeling weird on his skin. He had avoided being touched for so long, he wasn't sure what to do with it now that he could. Georgi clung to him, sniffling, and Yuri resigned himself to enduring it.

"Your cat is at my apartment," Mila said, a smirk on her lips. "She was driving Lilia crazy yowling for you. She's an asshole too, she attacks my feet at night."

"Shut up, my cat is majestic," Yuri said, grinning.

Mila reached out and ruffled his hair, just like she always did. From across the room, a low growl thrummed through the noise of the crowd before Yuuri strangled it off into a cough, turning red. Everyone laughed, especially Mila, who bodily dragged Georgi off.

"Message received, getting our hands off your omega," she said, tossing Yuuri a mocking salute.

"I'm my own goddamn omega," Yuri declared, amid more laughter. It didn't stop him from stalking over to the bench and letting Yuuri pull him down beside them, rubbing his cheek over Yuri's hair even while his face was bright red with embarrassment.

"Is everything okay with Lilia?" Victor asked.

"Yeah," Yuri said, trying not to let everyone else see the happy little smile on his face. "Yeah, we worked it out. You and Yakov?"

Victor shrugged. "I've been fighting with that man since I was fourteen, we'll be okay. I did my own share of yelling."

"Are you ready to go home?" Yuuri asked, clearly fidgety around so many people and so many scents mingling in the locker room.

Warmth bloomed in Yuri's chest, and he couldn't hold back the blindingly sappy smile this time if he tried. He aggressively ignored the loud awwwww Mila made from across the room. Home, where he was going to live, with his _mates_ , the ones who said they loved him like it was a foregone conclusion. The ones he loved right back.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> A note about patronyms and Yuri talking about taking Lilia's name: In a world without homophobia, I tend to extrapolate that the patriarchy and sexism aren't problems either. With this in mind, I headcanon that sons are given patronyms and daughters are given matronyms. Yuri, in my mind, takes his grandfather's name due to estrangement with his parents. It means a lot to Lilia for him to say he'd even consider taking her name.


End file.
